No Matter The Shape
by IShipItAllAndThenSome
Summary: Some loves are too great to be confined by something as immaterial as genus. Besides, with a world of monsters and magic, of shadows and secrets, of friends and freaks, why let nature stand in the way? Darren Shan/Madame Octa. Includes m/f sex. Don't read if you don't like it; goodness knows, it made me uncomfortable writing it. Lily And Her Tramps, DO NOT READ LEST I SMITE THEE!


**So. Here it is. Heterosexual smut. I'm seriously disturbed by the fact that I wrote this, but last night, I rewatched Cirque Du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant and I remembered how much I loved the books and film. Also, just how much I ship them. I felt like the canonical relationship was too contrived, too forced, and Darren's eyes when he looked at Madame Octa? Mrow! SO. I'm seriously uncomfortable with heterosexual sex; penises and vaginas are incongruous with sex, at least together, to me. So, if this is bad, please, go easy on me. **

**Content Warnings: M/F sex, oral, penal-to-vaginal penetration, technical bestiality (I never thought I would type those words), schmoopy-ass ****after-cuddles, and general nudity.**

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"Oh, my love," Darren murmurs, stroking over her silky back. "I've wanted you from the first night I saw you—remember how I stole you away? Remember how I fed you, every day, when Larten deigned not to?"

Octa purrs quietly under his hand, now grown to twice her original size, eyes bright and clever. She sinks her pincers into the meat of his thumb, a love bite, literally no venom to it. Darren's breath comes a little faster, his heart thumping a little harder, his eyes darkening, pupil swelling with arousal.

"God, but you're beautiful. And in just a bit, we can be together," he croons, holding her up to his eyes. "_Tu, qui habet lites cognati mei. Estote sicut ego, quia et tangit. Quod es, anima mea, tua si nostrum non est consummatum. Estote sicut ego, nocte et tantummodo teneatur amore._"

Octa gives a shiver, stretching and growing, limbs braiding together and eyes merging, silky blue fur relocating to her head and flowing down in a pin-straight drop. Her full curves, delicate swells and dips, her elegant exoskeletal shape, tugs into a new form.

Perched on his lap, she tosses her head, looking him in the eyes, red against green, and she licks her full, pouty lips. "Darren," she hisses, delighted. "Darren, look!" She bounces in his lap, stroking his hair, and his eyes fall from the sheer, innocent joy on her face to the utterly bared bouncing of her breasts, a blue-tinted creamy white, laced with delicate veins, rosy nipples drawn tight in the faint chill of the air. "I'm human!"

"Oh, my beautiful girl, you're so much more than that," Darren chuckles, cupping her round face in his hands and drawing her in for a kiss. Her teeth are curved inwards, just slightly, and pointed like a dulled-down piranha's, and they nip over his tongue. He licked into her mouth, biting down on her lower lip playfully, tugging back just until she began to squirm.

"Darren... Darren, more!" she moans, fingernails digging into his shoulders. "I feel..." Octa drops one hand to her smooth, flat stomach, touching low. "Something, fluttering, hot and needy, I-I want... I want!"

"I know, my love, I know," Darren soothes, stroking a hand down her back, sliding around to lace their fingers together over her belly. "Let me just help you, my sweet girl, and it'll feel so good!"

Octa nods, lips swollen and flushed, chest heaving as her heart thuds out of control. "It feels good now, Darren, please, more!"

Darren nods and kisses her, hungry, tugging her head back with a fist in her hair, and lays her down atop his coffin, parting her legs and crawling up her body, kissing his way down her taut, beautiful body. "I'm going to touch you, my love, and it will feel so amazing, but it'll be... overwhelming." He latches onto one nipple, sucking back, teeth flirting over the pebbled bud, and and Octa moans out loud.

"Oh, God! Darren, Darren!" She arches up, fingers scrabbling over the top of the coffin, eyes fluttering shut. Darren just smiles and laves attention over her nipples, licking and nipping and sucking, feeling her wetness ooze down the surface of the coffin, and he can smell her—he can smell her wetness, the newfound heat of her, her overpowering arousal—God, he can smell her!

He kisses down her body, hands gripping her gorgeous, perfect breasts, squeezing, pinching, revelling, and licking down into her hot, wet core. He kisses the creases of her thighs, skimming over her soaked, silken folds, listening to her click and hiss and whine with frustration, desperation. Finally, when all that comes from her mouth are the most pathetic, needy gasps and moans and whimpers, he drops his head down and licks up the centre seam of her pussy.

Octa howls, shaking, and clutches at Darren's hair. "Darren, Darren, oh!"

Darren grins and gently traces his teeth over her clitoris, relishing her little gasps, before sucking on it, tongue flicking over the head determinedly. Octa screams, spattering his mouth and chin with her come. Panting, she slumps back into the surface of the coffin, smiling dazedly up at Darren. "That was... oh, my love, that was..."

"Good?" Darren asks, eager and smug, tugging off his shirt. Octa licks her lips, grinning, and runs her fingers up and down his bared chest.

"Shall I?" she asks, sliding down towards his stiff cock, a gleeful glint in her eyes.

"No. I've got something better." Darren cups the base of her skull, feeling the hum of her nerves beneath skin and bone and, yes, sweet sweet blood. Hers is extraordinary, a delicious bouquet of silk and fresh cream and a faint tang of thick, salty iron, and he can taste it in her sweat, on her skin, on her tongue. He kisses her, at once both sweetly delicate and tender, and brutally starved. It is a passion; it is fire and brimstone and damnation, and it is teeth and tongue and salvation, and it is the gentlest of gestures. It is all consuming, and it boils between them, supernova-hot.

Octa moans and clutches at his shoulders, slowly broadened by time, bucking up into his thigh, her folds dripping with arousal once more. "Remove... God, remove your _fucking _trousers! I want you, Darren, I want you now!"

Darren's hips stutter, rutting into her hip, and he bites down on her lower lip, sucking back, a brilliant hickey blooming up under her milk-pale skin. "You have me, love, you have me, just—shit, just let me get out of my pants!"

Octa grabs the waistband of his jeans, well-worn and soft, and tears them away, shredding his underwear by association, and gasps greedily at the sight of his cock.

Flushed red and curved slightly down, latticed with veins and oozing pearly drops of precome that dribble down his shaft, Octa can't imagine a more beautiful cock. "I want it, Darren, I want it now!"

Darren moans and hitches her legs, slim and lovely and going on for miles, up over his hips, pushing in gently, in short little thrusts. Octa is slick and tight and soft, her folds flushed and rigid with arousal, one little spot rough and throbbing a little harder than the silken flesh surrounding it. Struck by sudden inspiration, and more than a little desperation, Darren rolls Octa over, the head of his cock brushing over that rigid little node, and Octa wails in ecstasy.

Darren licks up the stacked marbles of her spine, teeth rasping over the topography of her body, and reaches around to stroke her clit and squeeze one magnificent tit—more for his own selfish satisfaction than hers, to be honest, but the heft of one in his hand, warm and throbbing with her pulse, nipples pebbled and drawn tight—holding himself up solely through the strength of his thighs. Octa moans and bucks back, fucking herself on his cock, and tips her head back. "Darren—'m gonna come, I need to..! Darren!"

It is transcendent. The tight rippling of her internal muscles, the heat, the slickness—everything—makes it impossible for Darren to hold off coming any longer. He's been wanting, desperate, since he first saw her, and now that she's human, now that their bodies are biologically made to merge and bring each other pleasure, he's been feeding his own arousal on the evidence of hers. He comes, hard, filling her up until his seed spills down the creamy expanse of her inner thighs, and twists, collapsing onto the floor with Octa cradled delicately to his chest.

They lie there, panting, drawing in breath after desperate breath, every one drenched in the scent of them, and they wait out the comedown, sharing lazy kisses.

"I love you, Octa," Darren murmurs. "I'll always love you, no matter what form you take."

"And I, you, my sweet, sweet boy," Octa replies, stroking his cheek.

Darren sits upright, hugging her close. "The spell, it's not going to last. It'll only work for nights; during the day, we can't be... like this."

Octa sniffs, condemning the ridiculousness of his statement. "We will always love each other, won't we? No matter the form I take, I will still want you, desire you, love you. You are mine, Darren Shan, blooded by Crepsley, child of the night, and I will not let something so simple as a change in form stand between us." She pokes him on the nose, serious as can be, and then kisses him sweetly. "I'll sleep in your coffin tonight, and I expect you to join me within the hour."

Darren grins and scoops her up in his arms, kissing her bare flesh and carrying her to his bed. He kicks the lid up and steps in, lying down and hugging her to his chest, and they drift off, dreaming.

In the morning, when Darren awakes, Madame Octa is perched on his lips, tapping the tip of his nose and chirping in reminder, and neither could conceive of greater happiness.

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**There are 1502 words of actual story. Please read and review!**


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